


Puzzle Pieces

by sqwid



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Stanley Uris Lives, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, stan centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-01-24 18:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqwid/pseuds/sqwid
Summary: Stanley Uris had a tough childhood, much like the rest of his little group of friends. They had endured something no one else could possibly understand, but that was precisely why they fit together so perfectly.  However, things don't stay perfect forever, they can't. Eventually, people grow up, move on, live their own lives, and Stanley isn't sure he's ready. If he moves on, he isn't sure he'll ever be able to go back.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

A hot line of orange falls on the horizon of the quarry, the setting sun igniting the sky with oranges, pink, and purples. The colors are brilliant, but tonight, they feel somewhat somber to Stanley. However, even if he feels a little less than how the sky looks, tonight isn’t a night to let his melancholy get the better of him. Much like most of the get togethers with the Losers, he wants to enjoy himself. After all, tonight was important, and Stan wanted to make the most of it.   
  
Stan was sitting on a blanket that he laid out over the rocks under him, leaving a spot next to him in the case that someone else wanted to make sure their pants stayed clean. Usually, that spot was reserved for Eddie, but he and Richie were yet to arrive. Nearby, Mike and Bill were sitting across from each other, a small campfire between them that they had been attempting to light for a while now. Stanley could’ve offered his scout skills to their effort a while ago, but honestly it was pretty funny watching them struggle from here. With a closed mouth chuckle, he looks up to meet Beverly’s gaze, who was also giggling to herself. She had placed herself snugly onto Ben’s lap, their own blanket draped over their laps as they sat on top of each other. The two were often close at the hip, as much teenagers in puppy love were.  
  
As the pile of sticks and grass between Bill and Mike finally sets alight, the two boys cheer in success, raising their arms up above to flames to complete a double high five to celebrate their success. Beverly gives them a round of applause for finally starting the fire, and Stanley huffs to himself in amusement before turning to look in the opposite direction. Still no sign of the other two. Richie had been his best friend since they were kids, the two somehow seemed to click despite their antithetical personalities. However, it was those opposing forces that somehow allowed them to get along so well. In a way, they made up for what each other lacked. Although it was cheesy to say it, they really did complete each other. As their group gradually grew and grew over the years, Stanley found their best friendship being spread out among the rest of their little gang, which wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Far from it. This group had become a second family, and Stanley loved them all dearly, and it didn’t change his close friendship with Richie. However, he could not help but become more and more aware of the time Richie spent hanging out without him, usually with Eddie.   
  
Now, Stanley didn’t want to sound possessive. He certainly didn’t want to be one of_ those _friends who didn’t allow their friends to hang out with anyone else. However, sometimes it hurt to maybe feel like he wasn’t number one to Richie anymore, especially when he was still number one to him. With him and his friends getting older, feeling like you were number one was becoming more and more hard. Beverly and Ben had been dating for a while, and Bill and Mike had their girlfriends now and then. Hell, even Richie had a girlfriend for a while. Stanley had felt like he had been in a similar boat with Eddie at least, being the two who had been left behind while the others found themselves in relationships. But with Eddie and Richie hanging out all the time now, even that was starting to feel difficult.  


But, no. Stanley had already told himself, tonight there would be no melancholy attitudes. He was going to enjoy himself.

As Stanley was about to look away, he soon notices a head of black hair coming up on the rocks to join the others, finally. Richie makes his entrance with a wave holding a box of graham crackers and chocolate bars, Eddie following right behind him with a bag of marshmallows in his hands. They were in charge of snacks, so despite being late, at least they had followed through.  
  
“Sorry we’re late! Eddie’s mom got stuck in the doorway and trapped us in his house!” Richie gives the group a shit-eating grin, resulting in many eye rolls and Eddie to shove him in the side with a loud retort. They’re all laughing as they come up towards the group, and Stanley looks up to Eddie with a smile, lifting a hand to begin to gesture for him to join him on their blanket. But then, Eddie passes right over him. Stanley pulls his arm back before anyone can notice, watching as Eddie ignores his presence as he’s bickering with Richie, only to find a spot by the fire right next to him.   
  
Oh.  


Well, that was fine. Stanley was happy they were getting along, Eddie didn’t have to sit next to him every time. Richie didn’t always have to put him first. He looks down, suddenly over-conscious of the way the blanket wrinkled under his feet. How some stripes of plaid were more worn than others, their colors fading into the rest of the blanket, almost disappearing. They didn’t line up. If you followed the line with a finger tip, it could be covered with a stain or the fabric worn over time, ruining the pattern. It wasn’t perfect anymore, it had been used and washed and used again and washed again. It was frayed, old, discolored,  _ wrong _ and-   


“Stan?”  
  
Huh? That was his name.   


“Stanley?” He looks up from the blanket, met with the view of Mike extending a stick towards him, a marshmallow pierced on the end. Reaching out, Stanley takes the end of the stick, pulling it back towards himself as he glances around. Everyone else was already holding their out of the fire, chatting among each other. “You okay?” Mike’s voice draws Stan’s eyes back over to him.  
  
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I sort of got lost in thought,” Stanley laughs, brushing off his panic as he smooths the blanket under him with his free hand.  
  


“I get it,” Mike nods, giving Stan a soft smile before reaching out so his own marshmallow hovered over the fire. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately too.”   
  
At least it wasn’t just him, but Stan was sure that Mike wasn’t thinking the same things as him. He was a great friend, he wouldn’t be jealous of his friends being friends. He wouldn’t be worried that they’d all grow apart and leave each other behind. After all, Mike wouldn’t doubt their friendship. They were The Losers Club. Stanley takes a deep breath. No one understood them better than each other. 

_ Yeah Stan, come on, you don’t have to be so sad. _

He’s scooting up on the blanket, reaching out to hold his own marshmallow over the flames. His eyes are trained on the orange blaze as it licks up against the sugary pillow on the edge of the stick, leaving the white flesh browned around as he turns it on its makeshift spit, the brown daring to become charred and dark if he leaves it on a spot too long. Stanley pulls it back out of the flames once it’s an even golden brown, blowing on the hot snack to cool it down. His eyes scan around for the open graham cracker box, reaching his hand out to grab two from the box and slide his melting marshmallow off his stick and onto the cracker. Next, he needed some chocolate.   
  
Glancing up, Stanley finds what he’s looking for, but his eyes meet Richie’s for a moment. He’s in the middle of holding out a messily put together smore, Eddie’s eyes closed as he leans forward, waiting for the treat to come to him. However, what seems to be a tender moment is lost as Stan’s gaze seems to cause Richie to shove that smore right into Eddie’s face. He covers up the look they had shared in a fit of laughter, and once again Eddie’s bickering with him. Stan forces smiles for himself, grabbing a half of a chocolate bar to finish off his smore, making himself take a bite to help ward off his worries.  
  
Things are quiet for a moment as everyone’s mouths are full, but of course with Richie around, things don’t stay that way for long. “Alright everyone, listen up, Eds has an announcement to make.” Eddie sighs in exasperation at the nickname, but everyone else looks over, their attention grabbed and their interest peaked.  
  
Eddie takes his sweet time to actually satisfy their curiosity though, hesitating for a long moment after Richie had announced that he had something to say. “...I’m not going to New York.” He eventually follows up, surprising the others, especially Stan. He thought they were both going to New York together, they spent hours talking about all the things they wanted to do and see together and- Stanley couldn’t help but confused. Why the sudden change in plans? “I’m going to California, with Richie. We got into the same college and I wasn’t sure at first so I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner but better now than never.”   
  
What? They got into the same school? They were going together? Knowing the date, that must have happened a while ago. Why didn’t he tell anyone? Why didn’t he tell him? Why didn’t Richie tell him? Of course he was hurt, how couldn’t he be? Just like he had feared, they were leaving him. They were going to grow apart.   
  
“Cuh- Cuh- California?” Bill is the first to speak out. “There’s nu-no way your mom would let you go across the country on your o-o-own.”   
  
“I’m going to be an adult in November, she can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m going, it’s already been decided. I have the plane tickets and everything.” Eddie retorts back, his voice confident. He’s just as sure of himself as he sounds, but that hurts even more.  
  
“Why?” Stanley speaks up, and Eddie quickly looks towards him. He hopes he didn’t notice the way his voice cracked when he said the word. For a moment, he regrets asking, but he wants to know. He doesn’t get a response as fast. Eddie glances at Richie, who gives him a neutral expression back, like he doesn’t have anything to say. Instead, Eddie looks back at Stanley, but he’s avoiding him with his eyes.  
  
“Richie and I have been… _together_. For a while.”  
  
Oh. _Oh. _Things were starting to click, to make sense, in ways that Stanley honestly wished they wouldn’t have. Sneaking off together, the alone time, running away to California together… It was all too obvious, but Stanley had never thought to assume that the answer might have been that his friends were gay. Not that he had a problem with it, he had been called a flamer and a queer enough to know how terrible it felt to be treated like that. He could imagine it must be much worse for someone who was actually so. Then, if he didn’t have a problem with being gay, why did his insides feel so much twisted? Why did them being together hurt so much more knowing they were actually_ together_?

Everyone is quiet again, and for a moment, Eddie looks worried, like he said something he shouldn’t have _ .  _ Luckily, it doesn’t take much longer for someone to clear the air.   
  
“I should have seen that coming honestly, it was pretty obvious you two have been in love with each other for forever,” Ben speaks up, and Beverly nods in enthusiastic agreement from her place on his lap.    
  
“You don’t think we haven’t noticed that R plus E carved into the kissing bridge?” Beverly adds with a laugh, and the others chuckle and nod along with her. However, Ben looks surprised, as if he had just put two and two together, and mumbles a soft  _ oh shit _ to his girlfriend’s amusement, which awards him with a smooch to his cheek.   
  
In this moment, Stanley feels more left out than ever. He never noticed. He never even considered it. How hadn’t he, if it had been so obvious to everyone else? Richie and Eddie both look relieved at everyone’s happy reactions, but as Richie scans over to see Stan, his own expression falters. Right, Stan’s the only one not smiling.    


His words are caught in his throat, unsure what to say to clear up the moment. He’s not sure that there is anything he could say without his face betraying him as to how he actually felt. However, Richie’s face made it harder. He looked confused, then it twisted into something that looked almost desperate. He wanted Stan to say something, tell him that he was happy for him or supported him and didn’t hate him. Of course he didn’t hate him, Stanley wanted him to be happy, he always wanted his best friend to be happy, but right now he was being selfish.    
  
“I-” Now everyone was staring at him, expectantly. He couldn’t tell if they were waiting for him to agree with the rest of them, or waiting for him to oppose. He didn’t want to do either. So, instead of either, he decides to take himself out of the situation. Because that’s what Stanley did, the scared one, he didn’t want to face the situation, he’d much rather run away.    
  
“I’m sorry,” He mumbles scrambling to his feet as he leaves his half-eaten smore on the rocks, and turns away from the group to fast walk into the trees. It’s not long before he hears the sound of murmurs behind him, and someone else getting up, sneakers stamping after him. It’s only once he’s made it into the forest that he feels a hand on his shoulder, yanking him around.   
  
It’s Richie, staring back at him with wide eyes filled with confusion. Stanley can just make out his own in the reflection of his glasses, wet and shiny from the tears he had been unknowingly holding back for a while now. Before Richie can even question him, something about it just being the two of them gives him the courage to speak up with his thoughts.   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought I was your best friend, I thought you would tell me about something like this! I’m the only one who had no idea. You didn’t tell me you were gay or about Eddie or about _ anything _ !” When Stanley raises his voice, he lowers the inhibitions that were keeping the tears in his eyes, and he feels his cheeks dirtied by a wet line on each side. He hated that feeling.   
  
Richie is the one who doesn’t seem sure what to say for a moment, staring back at him, his gaze following the tears as they roll down Stan’s face. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you felt about it! Me liking boys and all! I was confused and you know I still like girls but I liked Eddie too…” Richie pauses, swallowing to gain his composure. “Eddie wanted to keep it a secret from everyone. He didn’t want it getting out that he was gay. If it got out, it would get back to his mom, and she’d probably send him to a camp or something.”    
  
Stanley listens, and it makes sense. Of course it does, but it doesn’t do anything to help what still feels so twisted in his gut. What still felt  _ wrong _ . “...You know I wouldn’t have told anyone.”   
  
“I know,  _ I know _ .. But you know. You like girls and you’re… religious and shit.” Richie tries to explain further, but it only makes Stanley frown deeper.   
  
“You think I would abandon you over my religion? Richie you-”   
  
“No! Shit- I just- look. I’m sorry. I should have told you but honestly I was really just way too fucking preoccupied with smooching my boyfriend every second I got and time flew by before I ever got the chance to tell you.” Richie stares at him seriously for a moment, his hand firm as it doesn’t leave Stan’s shoulder. He hopes it never does. Even if he still feels terrible, the way Richie confesses all that makes Stan’s lips tug into a smile. Richie just had his ways of doing that, he could always make him smile, especially when he needed to. Luckily, Richie smiles back.   
  
“I just felt like we were drifting apart. I was already worried you two were moving on without me, but Eddie was going to New York too so I thought… you know… it would be okay.” He explains, fists clenching by his side. “But if you two are going to California together, there would be no reason to-”   
  
“Hey, shut up. We’re not moving on without you. You are my best friend Stan. Just because Eddie gets to hop on my dick doesn’t mean you’re not literally the best person ever.” Richie’s grinning now, and it must be contagious because Stanley’s smile is growing wide as he finally laughs, sniffling up his tears.    
  
“Gross.”   


“But I mean it. You’re Stan *the* Man. And that’s not changing just because I’m dating someone or where we’re living. We can still call and we can see each other during breaks… you’re always going to be my best friend.” Maybe Stanley’s mind wasn’t going to be completely eased. It wasn’t that easy to get over the jealousy in the pit of his stomach that easily. However, it did feel good to hear that reassurance from his best friend. “Hug?” Richie eventually offers.    
  
Stanley appreciated that, reminding him of how well Richie did know him best, making sure to ask before hugging him as Stan wasn’t always comfortable with physical contact. However, right now, he did really need it. When Stan nods, Richie smiles, stepping in and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Stanley’s own arms returned the gesture, holding him close and resting his head down on Richie’s shoulder.    


They hold their hug for a good moment before Stanley’s the one to break it, pulling back to wipe his face to make sure it was nice and dry. Okay, he was ready to head back to the group now. “Sorry about all that,” He laughs softly, taking a deep breath just to make sure he was nice and calm. “I didn’t want to cause a scene… I just… I was jealous.” He admits, and Richie grins at that.    
  
“Well, if I were you, I’d be jealous too, who wouldn’t want all  _ this _ to himself,” Richie gestures down his body, before laughing and leading the way back to the group. Stanley finds himself chuckling with him, following him back to the group. They all look surprised to see them return, especially Eddie, who looked upset compared to the others. Stan was about to speak up, apologize for having reacted so terribly, but Richie’s speaking out for him again.   
  
“Don’t worry guys! Stanley’s not a homophobe, he’s just jealous that Eddie stole the spot on my dick before he did!”    
  
“Beep beep Richie,” Stanley’s rolling his eyes, laughing, and their light hearted conversation with each other seems to ease everyone’s minds. Eddie noticeably relaxes, looking up at Richie as he sits back down in his spot next to him.   
  
Eddie seems to have understood what that was about though, speaking up with his own feelings on the matter. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Stanley, I was really excited to go to New York with you too, but... shit happens. Maybe I can come visit sometime?” He gave Stan a hopeful smile, and Stan makes sure to smile back.   
  
“No, I get it. I’m happy for you guys, I really am. But, I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit. I’d like to visit California someday too.” With a nod, Eddie finally gives him a more genuine grin, excited that they seemed to have worked it all out. Stanley didn’t want to give either of them a reason to worry or think that he might still be worried or jealous, so he’s putting on his best happy appearance when he reaches for a new marshmallow.    
  
The whole situation made perfect sense to Stanley. He understood why he was left out, no one wanted to be the third wheel to a romantic relationship anyway. They were going to be far apart if they all wanted to pursue their own paths in different directions, it was inevitable that Stanley would have to grow comfortable with distance. He felt okay being apart from Bill or Mike, he wasn’t jealous about Ben and Beverly being a couple, and that only made him more confused when he considered why he felt the way he did about Richie and Eddie.    
  
Like they said, they’d call him, they’d see each other again, and after college, who knew where they’d want to go? Not Derry of course, but maybe they’d all just… pick another state together? Who was he kidding, that was ridiculous. Eventually they could get to a point where they would have to move on. Live their own lives. The idea that they could all still be friends as adults that he once hoped for as a kid was absurd now. They were all growing up, going their separate ways, and the more time they spent apart, the more they would grow about. That was just life. You couldn’t be friends with your middle school friends forever.   
  
If that was so obvious to him, why was it was much more difficult to accept it when it came to those two? Sure, he was envious of the way that Ben and Beverly would likely stay together for longer, but it wasn’t in the same way his heart ached when he thought about Richie and Eddie staying together while he was left behind.    


When he glances over, he notices how the two were being much less subtle with each other now, presumably more comfortable to be romantic in front of everyone knowing that it was safe. They sat close, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, as Richie picks at burnt bits of marshmallow and Eddie breaks off a square of chocolate before eating it. He gets some on his lips, and Richie glances over, laughing at the smudge on his mouth. Eddie questions him in confusion, only to be met Richie’s face moving over his.    
  
While Stan could only see the back of Richie’s head in this position, he knew they were kissing. His stomach lurched.    
  
Stanley takes a deep breath, pulling is marshmallow back off the flames again, building another smore together. He needed to get his shit together, at least right now. He could cry about it later, but right now, he needed to savor this moment they had together before it was over.    


* * *

The night went a lot better from then on out. The Losers laughed and gossiped together, reminiscing on memories of the past years they had spent together. They avoided one particular summer, but everything after that was fair game, engraving those precious moments into their minds. Even if they were apart, those were things Stanley knew he could never forget about. They all knew that the way they cared about each other was nothing else anyone could ever compare to. They shared a bond and an experience that no one else could understand. That was why they were Losers. They were different, special, but they had each other.   
  
Maybe they were going to be just fine after all.   
  
As the hours ticked forward, the light from the fire grew smaller and weaker as the flames waned, the darkness of night was closing in on them. The dying embers were a sign, it meant it was time to go. As an act of understanding between then, Mike gets up, making sure to put out the fire completely as everyone else finally stood to gather their things. Richie and Eddie picked up all the smores trash, and Stanley’s taking it upon himself to fold up his blanket nice and perfectly.    
  
Holding up one edge, he stands with the blanket, shaking it out so it would be free enough of dirt for now, about to fold it to the other edge when he feels the other half of the blanket lift and be brought towards him. Stan looks up, seeing Eddie with the other half. They press the edges together into a straight line before Stan smiles, taking the rest from there.    
  
“Thanks,” He nods, folding the blanket once more, and then again into a nice, carry-able square.    
  
“Hey, I promise. I’ll come visit you in New York,” Eddie insists with a nod, stepping back to give Stanley his space.    
  
“I’m coming to visit California too, don’t count me out,” Stan nods back, and the two smile at each other.    
  
With the fire out and all the trash and blankets, the Losers gather around each other, each of them hesitating to make the first move or say the first goodbye. It was hard, knowing the next time it would be the seven together like this would probably be the holidays. Maybe. That was if all of them decided to come back to Derry, and who knew if everyone would?    
  
But, regardless, they didn’t need to be together physically, Stanley needed to remind himself. Like he had remembered, they had a bond that special, no one else could have what they had together.    
  
He feels a hand slip into his, he’s all too aware of the smooth skin as it slides against his scarred palm. Following the hand up it’s arm, it’s Richie’s, and Eddie’s holding Richie’s other hand as they stand next to him. Bill approaches, Taking Eddie’s other hand while Stanley feels his other being taken up as well. It’s Beverly, and she’s smiling at him as Ben and Mike stepped in to fill the gaps. Together, hand in hand, they’ve completed the circle and it’s a scene all too familiar. They all seem to realize that though, and Beverly is the first to step in and change it up. Her hands slide out of Stan’s and Ben’s on either side of her, her hands finding their places on either side of their backs. Everyone’s soon following suit, arms stretched across the two people to each of their sides, and this time it’s not an oath, it’s just a hug. The seven of them huddle together, Stan feels himself sniffling, his eyes wet, but if his ears aren’t fooling him he’s not the only one.   
  
“I love you guys.”   
  
“I love you all too.”    
  
It doesn’t matter who is saying what, because they all agree, they all feel the same, and they nod along to the words.   
  
“I’ll make sure to call a lot.”   
  
“Me too.”   
  
It’s after a moment that they realize they can’t stay here forever, and Stanley’s the one who finally takes a step back, breaking their group hug. “I’ll see you all soon, okay?” He smiles, lifting his empty hand to wave at them all. They wave back as Stanley steps back. “I’ve got to go, early morning and all.”   
  
They nod in understanding, “Bye Stanley.” He takes a moment, turning around, his back to everyone as he starts in the direction back home. It’s only a moment before he hears the others saying their goodbyes too, but he’s already on his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you all know, this is a prologue, so don't expect the next chapter to follow directly after. The rest of the chapters are going to continue in adulthood and follow along chronologically from there. Just thought I'd let you know in case anyone was expecting more teenagers and all that sort of drama.


	2. Stanley Uris Takes a Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning this chapter for suicide attempt/self-harm/blood  
I'm sorry it has to be this way but... things must be done.

Stanley’s fingers tap on his chin, his other hand holds a small paperboard piece, turning it over as his fingertips feel over each of the notches on the four sides. He holds the piece up, double checking the picture before slotting the piece down into its place, fitting in next to two pieces at it’s corner. Running his finger tips over the connecting pieces, he makes sure it’s flat and then pulls his hand back to get a good look at the image so far. It was almost done, just a few more. Then, just as they did with all of their puzzles, Stanley and his wife could glue it down and frame it.  
  
Speaking of his wife, Stanley hears Patricia’s voice from behind him, “Should I just book it?” She asks, sitting in the kitchen on her laptop with the trip booking open up on the screen. “You’re sure you can get away from work?”  
  
“It’s summer, why not?” Stan responds, reaching across the coffee table to take another piece from his carefully arranged selection of pieces that still needed a home in the final puzzle. He fits that one into place as well.  
  
“Okay, we are Buenos Aires bound!” Patty pulls her hands off of the keyboard with a smile as soon as she clicks enter on the booking. She giggles softly to herself, taking the glass of red wine from next to her and having a celebratory sip.  
  
After a few more pieces, there’s a singular spot left in the center of the puzzle. He reaches out to grab the last piece, however there’s nothing to grab. Confused, Stanley scans the coffee table, finding that the piece was nowhere to be found. That was, until he noticed what looked like a blemish on the rug through the glass of the table.  
  
He takes his reading glasses off his face, folding them as he slides them into his shirt pocket, and crawls down onto his hands in knees to reach under for the piece. Just as he grabs it, his phone vibrates from the topside of the table, the blue of the screen lighting up from above him. With the piece in hand, he slides back out from under the table, careful not to hit his head as he sets the puzzle piece back onto the table, grabbing his phone instead. Turning it over in his hand, he raises curious eyebrows at the caller ID. Maine?  
  
He doesn’t know anyone in Maine.  
  
Still, he answers the call anyway, seeing no reason not to. Holding the phone to his ear, he starts the call, “Stanley Uris speaking.”  
  
“It’s Mike,” The other end replies, and Stanley isn’t sure if he’s supposed to know who that is. He doesn’t recognize the voice, and well...  
  
He doesn’t know a Mike.  
  
“I’m sorry?” He questions, waiting for the man on the other end to elaborate.  
  
“Mike Hanlon,” The voice continues. “From Derry.”  
  
It’s then that Stanley swallows, blinking as he has to take a moment to pause and gather himself. He clenches the fist that’s hanging by his side, stretching out each of his fingers under his thumb. Of course he knew a Mike, how could he have forgotten? But as he remembered Mike, so does everything else. It wasn’t just Mike, it was all seven of them, the Losers. He remembers the Losers, and Derry, and of course the logical conclusion of those things. He remembers their oath. That summer. Everything.  
  
He’s sweating, heart racing as he realizes what this call means. However, he doesn’t want to leave his side of the line dead for much longer, so he forces himself to choose some words and string them into something that felt normal.  
  
“Mike. God, sorry, yes. Hi!” A laugh slips through his lips, one that’s glad to speak to his old friend again, but also one that’s nervous. That is terrified. “I d-didn’t know why I didn’t um... “ Yeah, that didn’t feel normal. It’s hard to speak, it’s hard to even think right now, he hasn’t felt this way in years. “How long has it been?” He eventually manages out, although given that Mike was calling him, he already knows how long it’s been.  
  
“A long time,” Mike starts, and Stanley pushes himself back onto his feet, walking to the other side of the living room. “Twenty seven years.”  
  
“ _ It’s _ come back, hasn’t it? That’s why you’re calling me?” Stanley’s voice his shaking, but he finally lets out the one thought that’s been on his mind. He knows that he shouldn’t be expecting any good news from this phone call, but he has to ask anyway. Just to make sure.  
  
“It’s starting again Stan, bad things are happening.” Mike responds, and of course it’s just as he expected.  
  
“Did- ha- you- Did you call the others? I mean- what if- what if they don’t come I mean-” The longer this conversation goes on, the harder Stanley finds it to keep talking.  
  
“We made a promise, remember? How soon can you get here?” Of course he remembered, he remembered the oath, he was never more aware of the scar on his palm, and it screamed at him. However, much to the scar’s dismay, Stanley already knew he wasn’t going to be able to follow through on that promise. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t be able to face It again, he was too scared. Scared enough to do whatever it was necessary to avoid coming back. However, logically, there was only one way he could avoid his fears while hopefully assuring the other loser’s success.  
  
“Um. Well I uh.Yeah, I would need to do a few things-”  
  
“Tomorrow. We don’t have much time.” Mike pauses, and Stanley inhales, closing his eyes. “I’ll text you everything you need. I’ll see you soon Stan the Man.” He exhales, hearing the click from as Mike hangs up on his end. Stan hopes that that isn’t the case. He doesn’t want to see Mike where he’s going.  
  
Stanley slowly walks back to the coffee table, setting his phone down. Patricia was already walking over, seeing as her husband had finished his phone call, a second glass of wine in hand for him. “Who was that?” She asks, her expression soft as she holds out the glass.  
  
He doesn’t take it though, finding it hard to meet his wife’s gaze. Knowing what he needs to do, he doesn’t want to look her in the eyes. It would hurt too much to look at the face he loves so much right now. “An old friend from school.”  
  
Patty finds herself frowning though, setting both of the glasses of wine down on the coffee table when Stanley doesn’t look at her or take the drink. “Is he okay?” She asks, her voice filled with concern, and Stanley can’t bring himself to look at her even more. He tugs on his cardigan, turning away.  
  
“He’s fine,” He nods, although he’s sure that he’s not being convincing at all. His face is pale and his skin is clammy, but his stoic expression is steadfast. He knows what has to be done. “But, I think I’m going to take a bath.”  
  
“This early?” Patty sounds more confused, but Stanley’s already walking away, giving her a nod before he’s out of her line of sight, walking down the hallway. He knows he never takes a bath this early, and it’s obviously out of the norm, but he has to do this now, before he changes his mind. Before he chickens out again.  
  
However, before going into the bathroom, he stops outside his office, hesitating before stepping inside. He gathers a small stack of papers, seven pieces exactly, and sits down at his desk, grabbing a pen. Before he went, he wanted to write something out. Something to his six best childhood friends, and something to his wife. At least after this was all over, he wanted her to know the truth, even if she might never understand it. He loved her too much to leave her in the dark.  
  
With seven letters folded and put away into seven envelopes, each addressed and set in a neat stack on his desk, Stanley takes his leave to the bathroom. He pauses at the door, but then closes it behind him, turning the lock. He never locks the bathroom door, especially not when he’s taking a bath, but this time it was a necessary precaution.  
  
Before he got into the tub, there were a few steps in preparation he needed to take. First, of course, the tub needed to fill with water. He leans over the tub, turning on the warm water and holding his hand under for a moment to make sure the temperature was nice. After a moment, he steps back, shaking the water off of his fingertips as he leaves the tub to fill.  
  
Next, was to get rid of these clothes that would make taking a bath very uncomfortable. Stanley strips down, folding each of his articles of clothing in the order that he removes them, placing them in a perfect stack on the seat of the toilet. The tops off the pile with his folded pair of reading glasses, and then finally unclasps his watch from his wrist to lay that parallel to his glasses. He didn’t want to leave more of a mess behind than necessary after all.  
  
Finally, was the last preparatory task. Stanley walks to the sink, giving himself a glance in the mirror for a moment. His eyes were tired despite his perfect sleep schedule, his skin looked sickly, and his hair seemed to somehow messier than he normally ever let it get. He takes a moment to gently move his curls into place before opening the medicine cabinet and hiding his reflection from view. Reaching into the cabinet, he grabs what he needs, a single razor blade.  
  
When the tub is almost full, Stanley finallys steps into his bath. He sinks down into the water, leaning over to turn off the stream before letting his shoulder blades rest against the back of the tub and his hands grip either side of the tub as he takes deep breaths. Even now, he was terrified, his eyes glassy with tears of tear. However, right now in this moment, he couldn’t afford to be afraid. So, instead, he chooses to remember.  
  
He’s taken back to that summer of 1989, him and his six friends stand together in a circle. However, the scene is just out of focus, that is until Bill comes into view. Big Bill. He has a shard of glass clutched in his fingers and a determined looking back at Stanley. His lips moved, mouthing three words that Stanley still can’t believe he’s forgotten.  
  
_ Do you swear? _  
  


And Stanley nods.  
  
“I swear Bill,” Stanley’s lips quiver, a tear that had been bubbling up in his eye finally overflowing and running down his right cheek. He then looks down, wanting to make sure he hit the right spot.  
  
Bill’s taking Stanley’s hand, palm up, pressing the sharp corner of the glass into his palm and pulling it across his hand in one quick motion. Stanley winces, clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut at the sting, the feeling of warm, wet blood soaking his skin. However, he did it.  
  
Stanley’s finally relaxing, the stinging pain fading away as he feels the pink tinted bathwater grow cooler around him, and his eyes fall closed. 

——  
  


Patricia is positive that something is wrong. She was quiet during her husband’s phone call, not exactly listening to what was being said, but she was hearing. Something wasn’t right. She heard the way Stanley stuttered, his tone of voice faltered, and really, it wasn’t like him at all. So, when he immediately decided to take a bath after he had hung up, she knew something was wrong.  
  
Stanley never bathed in the early evening. He took a shower early every morning before work, and he would sometimes takes a late soak in the tub with a beer and a magazine. Or sometimes those baths would be an excuse for Patty to join him and run her hands into his hair. However, that wasn’t this at all. No, there was something going on with Stanley, and she didn’t like it at all.  
  
However, Patty gives him his space at first. She stays in the living room, finishing up her glass of wine on the couch alone. When Stan was feeling bad, he liked his space, and he would eventually come to Patty when he wanted to talk about it or rant or just to have her hold him in his arms. So, she didn’t rush things, letting her husband move at his own pace and come to her when he was comfortable.

  
She takes her time, flipping through whatever was on TV at this hour while she sips from her glass. Once the glass is empty, she sets it down on the coffee table, next to Stanley’s full glass. She frowns, her eyes following the wine to the unfinished puzzle that took up the rest of the coffee table. _ Unfinished. _

The empty hole in the center of the puzzle, the one final puzzle piece that was missing rubbed Patty the wrong way. That wasn’t like Stanley at all either, leaving something unfinished. For some reason, that was what sets her off. Patty pushes herself up off the couch, heading back down the hallway. She glances at the fridge, considering grabbing a beer to bring up to Stanley before deciding against it. No, this wasn’t one of his normal baths, and she was worried.  
  
Approaching the bathroom door, the fact that it was shut tight set off another alarm. Stanley _ never _ closed the door while he was taking a bath. Bath time always meant an invitation for Patty to come in. So, she frowns, a hand reaching for the doorknob. “Stan?” She asks, turning the knob only to be met with resistance. The door was locked, which was even more unusual. “Stanley?” Patty raises her voice a little louder, but there’s no response. In fact, it’s silent. Not even the sound of a body moving around in water. And suddenly, she’s filled with dread.  
  
“Stanley!” She calls in panic now, turning the doorknob and pulling harder as if that would somehow make the door any easier to open. “Stanley, open this door right now!” Still nothing, no sound at all. Patty pulls her hand back, panicking as she looks around frantically, a hand in her hair. There was no way she could bust the door down, even with this rush of adrenaline- then she feels it, the bobby pin in her hair. 

Patty does not hesitate to yank out the pin, bending it straight to stick the straight end into the lock. She feels around, pushing at the lock until it clicks at she lets the bobby pin fall to the ground as she yanks the unlocked door open. 

What she found inside was worse than what she could have imagined.  
  
Stanley’s body slumped over the side of the tub, the bathwater red with blood, and more dripped from Stan’s finger onto the clean tiles below. It was almost a poetic scene, beautifully tragic as Stanley laid there looking as beautiful as a renaissance painting, the red a stark contrast against the cold, clean, white porcelain.  
  
However, Patty would never find this beautiful. It was tragically devastating, but there was no time to despair. Her eyes land on Stanley’s neatly folded clothes, and she runs over, grabbing his shirt and pulling over to his body. She grabs his hand, carefully but quickly tying the cloth around his bleeding wrist, holding pressure on the wound. “Stanley,” Patty’s voice his shaky, her other hand reaching out to hold his cheek, leaning her face in to listen. Oh thank God, he was still breathing.  
  
“Oh Stanley, I’m so sorry, I’m right here, please stay with me,” There isn’t much more she can do here and now to save him, so she frantically pulls her hand back to her pants pocket to grab her phone, keeping pressure of Stan’s wrist with her other hand. She taps 9-1-1 onto the screen, bringing it to her ear.  
  
“911 what is your emergency?” The operator speaks into the line.  
  
“My… My husband. He tried to kill himself. He’s slit his wrists.”  
  
Patty doesn’t move from Stanley’s side as they wait for the paramedics. She keeps pressure on the shirt around his wrist, but drains the bathwater and grabs his robe to cover him up. She knew he would want to be covered before anyone else arrived to see him.  
  
However, when the paramedics arrive, they’re taking over Patty’s job to stop the bleeding and stabilize Stanely, taking him away onto a stretcher so they could bring him onto the ambulance to rush him to the hospital. She gives them space to do their work, but she still watches her husband’s body being taken away in shock, her fists clenching his blood-stained shirt.  
She follows them out of the bathroom, but pauses when she notices the open door into Stanley’s office. That was also unusual, so she’s holding her breath as she steps into the room and looks towards his desk. What she’s expecting is a single suicide note, and not a stack of seven envelopes. The envelope that sat on the top of the stack was addressed to her, her name written large and center in Stanley’s beautiful script. She hesitates, but takes the stack with her, holding the letters close to her chest.  
  
Patty is then quickly heading out to follow the paramedics again, only stopping at the coffee table when she notices Stanley’s phone sitting there. She stops for a moment, grabbing that too and sliding into her pocket.  
  
The ride to the hospital was hard. Patty sat in the back, holding onto Stanley’s cold hand tightly the whole time, not letting go even as she let the professionals work on keeping him alive around her.  
  
When they arrive at the hospital, the paramedics and Stanley are being rushed out ahead of her, hurrying him off so they can get to saving his life and getting him stable. Patty isn’t going to get in their way and stays back, standing in the hallway as she watches his husband disappear behind doctors and into a room. She clutches the letters close to her heart, his hands trembling as she takes a deep breath. He was going to be okay.  
  
Looking down at the letters, Patty moves to take a seat in the waiting area. She puts the other six letters down next to her, and focuses on the one for herself. The other ones weren’t meant for her after all. Taking a deep breath, she carefully tears open the envelope just how Stanley would have wanted. Inside, is a single folded piece of paper, which she pulls out and holds between her hands to stare for a moment at the perfectly straight lines of handwriting. She smiles sadly, her eyes already wet when they find the top of the page.  
  
_ Dear Patricia Blum Uris, _

_ I know what this must seem like, but it isn’t a suicide note. You’re probably wondering why I did what I did. To be honest, I didn’t even know until it was too late either. However, I didn’t want to leave you without explaining everything to you. So, even if you could never understand, I am not going to leave you in the dark. You don’t deserve that. _

_ When I was 13, I learned about an evil entity that slept under the sewers of my hometown in Derry, Maine. It fed off of children like me and my friends, it preyed off of our worst fears, and took important people away from those I cared about. Together, my friends and I hunted it down in the sewers, sending it back into it’s sleep. It’s how I got those scars I could never remember where they came from. We made an oath that if It every returned, we would all return to kill it once and for all. _

_ Well, that day came, and I knew I was too scared to come back. I knew if the seven of us weren’t together, if all of us alive weren’t united, I knew we’d all die. So, I made the only logical move. I took myself off the board. I can only hope that it worked. _  
_  
I’ve lived my whole life afraid. Afraid of what would come next. Afraid of what I might leave behind. I’m sorry I never told you. I’m sorry it had to come to this. But I want you to know that you made me feel a little less afraid everyday. I’m sorry Patty. I loved you. I still love you. I always will._

_ -Stanley _

When she finishes the letter, the paper is speckled transparent and wet from her tears, and she folds the paper, holding it out of her line of sight to prevent it from being damaged anymore. Her crying is silent, but she’s never felt so twisted up inside. She has to take a moment, curled up on herself as she cries out all her tears that she can.  
  
After allowing herself that moment, Patty knows what she has to do. She folds the letter back on it’s creases, and slides it back into the envelope and sets it aside with the others. Her hand is taking Stanley’s phone from her pocket, finding his most recent call. A number without a contact from a phone somewhere in Maine. She takes a deep breath, before pressing dial, and holding the phone up to her ear.  
  
“Hello?” She speaks into the line when she hears a click on the other end. “This is Patricia, Stanley’s wife.” 


End file.
